


Home is Where the Heart Is

by FalseProphet (Batmanthegroomer)



Series: Practically Canon [4]
Category: Lupin III
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Just musing, M/M, Multi, autistic goemon, goemon is very much in love with all three of his partners, no real mention of romance/sex between anyone but it's implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 03:29:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20959712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batmanthegroomer/pseuds/FalseProphet
Summary: A little musing piece featuring Goemon.





	Home is Where the Heart Is

**Author's Note:**

> This is in the Practically Canon series but it really could be stand alone. It's just musing Goemon.

‘Home is where the heart is.’

A cliche; a phrase repeated numerous times in movies, books and plastered in the home decor sections of many general stores. Goemon has become as familiar with this phrase in English as with many of his old fashioned Japanese proverbs.

It does not, at its core, make sense. One’s heart is in their ribcage--higher and more to the left than most people assume--and it is no home but a physical barrier of bone, muscle, blood and tissue. There are very few who would call those things ‘home’ and of them Goemon would prefer to meet none.

He supposes the ribcage itself could be ‘home’. Certainly it is more protective, more an enclosed and intimate barrier for the heart and decidedly more asthetically pleasing when exposed than the raw core of a human. However, once more, not many would consider making an abode inside a ribcage.

He knows what the phrase means, what it’s message is--he is not an idiot. It is meant to imply that one does not need a physical location to have a home, merely an affection or sentimental value to place upon something of permanence. It is a decidedly classist statement that he is sure was coined by some rich individual in order to quell the rallying cry of homeless rebels struggling to survive. Perhaps if he could convince them they did not need to own estates, that human connection was enough, he could be home in time to enjoy his caviar.

The Western world is heavily saturated with the words and they bleed, more often than not, into the neon lit background of forlorn 2019 America. The words feel more stale now than he imagines they did when they were first printed. What hope have the masses who read those words now to ever know what the true feeling of ‘home’ is?

It is that which gives the swordsman pause. His eyes become unfocused in the breeze through the convertible top of the stylish yellow car Lupin has stolen for them. He presses his chin down into the heel of his hand to ground himself against the sensation, clicking his sword open and closed repeatedly.

‘Home is where the heart is.’

Goemon’s heart is slow beating and at any given time he could pinpoint the organ with suicidal accuracy--not many could make that claim. He can feel, hear and almost control each and every beat while deep in meditation. While pulsing on the battlefield he lets the rythm of his heart guide his steps. Goemon is far more familiar with his heart than any other heart-having creature he knows. He supposes the steady, calming, life-giving weight of his heart is of sentimental value. For Goemon his body is home and he is at peace in his own skin.

That is not the full weight of things, however, and the samurai knows he would be lying if he stopped the metaphor there. His heart--the metaphoric heart--beats outside his body now. It beats outside his ribcage perhaps stronger than it does within; with three distinct, unique pulses.

The Southern pulse is fire red, sunset orange, glowing yellow. It is a fast, youthful beat that is ever changing and whimsical. The pulse is deep in the heat of summer, enveloping and luxurious. It is the danger of combustion but the promise of something new and beautiful beyond. The Southern pulse is the thrill of walking across hot coals, the sting on the soles of the feet afterwards, and the invigorating rush of accomplishment upon reaching the other side. Unbridled passion; a wolf in hunt; The Fool in the deck of Tarot; the proud lion; the eternal dragon.

Lupin is Goemon’s Southern pulse and he finds a home there when he needs to remember to smile and take the turns life throws at him.

The Western pulse is diamond white, sapphire blue, raw pink. It is a strong, flowing beat that is yielding and yet stalwart. The pulse is fresh in the budding of spring, light and teasing. It is the coming of fertility and the danger of overstepping one’s boundaries. The Western pulse is the beauty of the rose petals, the strike of the dagger, and the knowing that beauty is only fleeting unless one understands the barren earth in winter will once more bare blossoms in the coming thaw. Flowing emotion; a spinning widow spider; the ever present Queen of Hearts; the fleeting doe; the cunning siren.

Fujiko is Goemon’s Western pulse and he finds a home there when he needs to redefine his boundaries and remember that this too shall pass.

The Northern pulse is gunmetal gray, desert brown, deep sea purple. It is a booming, powerful beat that is precise and wanting. The pulse is cautious in the gold of autumn, patient and watchful. It is the knowledge that something is there just beneath the surface and the undeniable urge to seek it out. The Northern pulse is the grounding presence of the planet, the magnetic pull to discover and the forbidden fruit of knowing one’s true self completely. Steady support; a viper in ambush; a coin mid-toss; the sharp-eyed hawk; the guiding gryphon.

Jigen is Goemon’s Northern pulse and he finds a home there when all other homes are insufficient and he must give in to call of his true desire.

The Eastern pulse is bamboo green, pitch black, translucent opaline. It is a familiar and known beat that is calculated and stagnant. The pulse is the sharpness of winter, deadly and unkind. It is the unforgiving law of nature which abides by rules none understand and yet all must obey. The Eastern pulse is the chill of an oncoming storm, the energy gathered just at the precipice of disaster and the eagerness of what will be left in its wake. Unwavering triumph; a salmon journeying home; the Bishop in repose; the ruthless shark; the guarding minotaur.

Goemon himself is the Eastern pulse and he finds a home there when he must quiet everything and learn that he is still fallible, still human,

‘Home is where the heart is.’

True, it is no singular location. It is not the stolen car driven by Lupin’s laughter; it is not the luxurious hotel procured by Fujiko’s charm; it is not even the amorous bed prepared by Jigen. It is where Goemon’s heart beats--higher in the chest, more to the left than one might presume--and where all four pieces come together.


End file.
